‘Do you think that Zoe reminded her too much of herself? A “herself” who didn’t measure up, as she had done? A failure of a mini-Carolynn?’
Roger didn’t answer. He looked bereft suddenly.
‘People who have escaped are often the harshest critics of people who remain, those who have failed to escape a similar situation, aren’t they?’ she prompted. ‘Just as reformed smokers are the most scathing critics of people who still smoke, who they perceive as being too weak to give up.’
‘Carolynn is smart and resourceful,’ he said wearily. ‘She worked hard, clawed her way up from the gutter. By the time I met her, she’d already polished off the rough edges. I grew up in Winchester, went to agricultural college. Carolynn is far cleverer than I am. She was clever enough for the both of us, and I was privileged and rich enough for the both of us.’
‘Who was in control in your relationship?’
Reynolds bridled. Jessie didn’t blame him. It was a tough question to ask a man, even tougher for him to answer truthfully.
‘Roger?’ she prompted.
A heavy sigh. ‘Carolynn, initially. She had a very definite vision of how she wanted our lives to play out, where we should live, how our house should be decorated, what car we should drive, the holidays we should take, who we should befriend.’
The box your child should fit seamlessly into. She could tell by the look on his face that he was thinking the same.
‘She is very resourceful,’ Jessie agreed, her comment the antithesis of a compliment. A chameleon. A masterful chameleon. ‘And later? After Zoe was murdered? Who was in control then?’
‘Being accused of Zoe’s murder, the trial and the fallout that followed destroyed her,’ Roger murmured.
Of course it would have done. Carolynn’s carefully constructed life collapsing around her ears.
‘So I took control. It was more important then to be strong, to hold it all together … more important than before.’
From his tone of voice and choice of words, Jessie realized that he was trying to salvage some ego.
‘Why did you keep the fact that Zoe was adopted from the police?’ Jessie asked bluntly. ‘Why did you hide it during the trial?’
Reynolds wouldn’t meet her gaze.
‘Why, Roger?’
‘Because we put our names on Zoe’s birth certificate as her natural parents,’ he muttered.
‘Surely that’s illegal.’
‘It was what Carolynn wanted.’
‘Because it made Zoe more hers?’ Jessie said, her voice laced with sarcasm.
To his credit, Reynolds visibly winced.
‘And as the trial progressed?’ she asked.
‘As the trial progressed, she … we thought that if we came clean it would negatively influence the outcome. Make us look like liars.’
‘You are liars.’ And God knows what else.
‘The lawyers went on and on about Carolynn’s postnatal depression. They insinuated that she hadn’t bonded with Zoe, that she didn’t love her. If we’d confessed the truth about her parentage …’ he tailed off.
‘From what I’ve heard, she hadn’t bonded with her and she didn’t love her,’ Jessie snapped.
Reynolds was staring determinedly at the floor as if there was something inherently fascinating about the worn black-and-white tiles, though Jessie noticed a muscle twitching involuntarily under his eye.
‘Did Zoe know that she was adopted?’ she continued, bringing him back to the present with a slight jerk.
He shook his head, a shake that turned into a dispirited half-nod.
‘We’d agreed not to tell her, but Carolynn snapped one day and shouted at her, told her that she wasn’t even hers. Wasn’t ours.’
Jessie winced. Lovely way for a child to find out.
‘How old was Zoe then?’
‘Five,’ he said. ‘Six, maybe.’
‘That insecurity alone would be enough to generate behavioural problems, particularly given that the news was broken to her as a rejection. In her mind, she would have been rejected twice, once by her real mother and again by her adoptive mother.’
And probably not just once by her adoptive mother. If Carolynn had snapped – his words – how many other times had she ‘snapped’? And how had each snap manifested itself? Psychological abuse could be as damaging as physical abuse, sometimes more so. Poor little Zoe – Jessie’s heart went out her.
‘Zoe was a tetchy, irritable baby who grew into a naughty, difficult child. She used to fuss and cry when Carolynn held her,’ Reynolds said. He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter, but rougher, laced with emotion. ‘Her behaviour towards Carolynn … it was almost as if she knew she’d been stolen from her real mum. That Carolynn … that we were imposters. Carolynn has a strong need to be loved and she felt as if Zoe didn’t love her in the way she should be loved by her daughter.’
‘Zoe wasn’t her daughter – or yours,’ she said baldly.
When Reynolds only reply was to lift his shoulders, eyes still glued to those worn black-and-white tiles, Jessie asked, ‘Who made the decision to run? Nine months ago?’
‘We had nothing left in London,’ he murmured. ‘The fallout after Carolynn was accused of Zoe’s murder was vitriolic. We had nothing, no one, just hate.’
She nodded. ‘Did Carolynn murder Zoe, Roger?’
69
‘The woman whose fingerprints are on the doll’s hair is an ex-prostitute, with a charge sheet as long as your arm.’ Burrows pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket and glanced down at it. ‘Her name is Ruby—’
‘Lovatt,’ Marilyn cut in.
Burrows’ eyes widened. ‘Yes, Ruby Lovatt. How did you know that, Uri Geller?’
Ducking his head, Marilyn coughed into his hand in a show of clearing his throat to mask the shock he felt. He looked back up and met Burrows’ searching gaze, held it calmly, his heart thumping hard in his chest. ‘She’s the woman who found Jodie Trigg’s body.’
Burrows frowned. ‘That can’t be a coincidence.’
‘She’s a …’ A what? ‘Unemployed,’ he said. ‘Always out and about walking on the beach, particularly in the summer months, looking for—’ Looking for treasure. ‘Looking for money, valuables, things that the tourists have dropped. So it could be a
